


Worst Sibling Ever

by ArcanicLevi



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types, DeadByDaylight - Fandom, Frank Morrison - Fandom, Freddy Krueger - Fandom, The Legion - Fandom, The Nightmare - Fandom, sibling relationship - Fandom
Genre: Don’t Tag As Ship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26334766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcanicLevi/pseuds/ArcanicLevi
Summary: Frank and Freddy somehow wind up at Mr. Underwoods home together as foster kids. Everyone in the home hates each other until things take an unexpected turn for the worst.
Relationships: Foster Siblings - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Worst Sibling Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Frank is 17 and Freddy is 15 in the beginning. I might turn this into a series idk.
> 
> Thank you Chip for giving me the ideas for this!

Frank Morrison was  _ not _ the type of teenager you’d expect to turn out the way he did. He was a good kid at the core, an…  _ okay _ student, a stellar athlete; overall he was just troubled at home, it caused a lot of his issues over the rough corse of time. Moving from place to place was no easy thing for a child with trust issues and a little more than a single backpack to carry around everywhere he went with his belongings in it, just in case things were bad and he had to scram again.

One thing he did learn from being in the foster care system: Never. Trust. Anybody.

Apparently that seemed to be a universal thing.

Directly across from the 17 year old sat a mere child, some  _ pest _ that he didn’t know how to dispose of just yet. He was dingy, small, thinner than paper, it looked like he could blow him over if he tried hard enough. It was pitiful, honestly. The kid had one bag, same as him, except it was a suitcase, some worn down little box standing on its last legs, much like how the kid  _ looked _ .

Cute, how these CPS people thought that he was tame enough to be put in the same presence as someone so boring. From the looks of it the kid didn’t even know how to dress himself properly either. He had on some of the dirtiest clothes Frank had ever seen, some striped sweater and a plain vest, blue jeans, and to top it all off, shoes that looked like they had just been pulled from the dumpster.

Didn’t this kid know the laundromat was open 24/7? All it took was a nickel.

To be fair, Frank probably didn’t look his best either. Only recently did he start work at some shop in town. It didn’t pay much but it was enough to buy his own food and get gas for his car: an old 1960’s Ford Starliner, the proudest thing in his life he could think of that he actually owned. His name was on the title, so it went with him wherever he went. 

Even if it was this old place at the edge of town.

He was given little to no information on where he was headed to this time, the inside of the house looked like a dump with beer bottles scrambled everywhere and out of the main walkway from room to room. He barely got a glimpse of the guy fostering them before he was being shoved inside and both him and this kid were told to sit still on the couch while the “ _ adults _ ” talked outside. It was sketchy, sure, but at least it was somewhere to sleep and hopefully eat, he could handle himself. 

Frank was far from being a child, yet he still couldn’t make the decision to get out of this hell of a town. Every house he moved into, every place he slept, they all had different rules, different places where he could and couldn’t go.

It was pretty lame, not the type of lifestyle he was used to, and he’d be damned to hell if he was ever going to follow anyone else’s rules but his own.

Fortunately for him, none of those houses had other kids in them… except for this one, and this kid seemed to have a staring problem.

He noted the way his eyes kept darting across the room every now and again as he sat on the couch with his bag tightly held beside him, just like a scared animal. Good, he should be scared. That means he’ll leave Frank alone and mind his own goddamn business.

Green eyes darted across their sockets again, the whites of Reds eyes changing, staring at something, hearing a noise, staring at something else. It was humorous almost, until the eyes landed on Franks again.

This time, he spoke up.

“The fucks the matter with you, ya got a staring problem?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade cutting through cake.

The kid flinched at the sudden uproar. He was skittish. Great news, again. The same Green eyes darted away towards the front door and stayed glued to it. He almost phased into old creaky cushions.

Frank could laugh at how easy this would be, but instead, he settled for a dry scoff to scrape out of his throat. 


End file.
